


unexpected

by snottygrrl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AWDT Prompt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-25
Updated: 2006-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snottygrrl/pseuds/snottygrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>draco's in trouble. harry helps. it's all rather unexpected</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** ust, flangst  
>  **disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
>  This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.  
>  **author's notes:** written for several awdt prompts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _are we having fun yet?_

"Over here." Harry grabs Malfoy's arm, pulling him quickly into a wall that really isn't. They wait tensely in the hidden alcove until their pursuers rush by.

"Are we having fun yet?"

Malfoy's blithe question infuriates Harry. He's risked his neck to get Malfoy away from the manor. Granted he didn't do it for the sanctimonious little prick. He did because Dumbledore would have wanted it. He did it for the Order. For the war.

Harry turns to Malfoy to give him a piece of his mind and stops short. This is the first time he's had a chance to really look at Malfoy since the escape, and Harry is stunned by what he sees. Malfoy is pale and bruised and amazingly unkempt. He is cradling the arm that Harry used to yank him in here moments ago, and Harry realises he heard a pained gasp when he did.

But the most shocking thing is not Malfoy's injuries nor his disheveled state, nor even his lack of complaints. No, what causes Harry to stare blankly at Malfoy is his wry grin.  Harry's never seen Malfoy without a sneer or nasty smirk, never heard him joke.

He blinks as Malfoy's slight grin widens into an amused smile and wonders why he never noticed just how attractive the blond is.

Harry only realises he is still staring when Malfoy raises a querying eyebrow. He feels his cheeks flush and quickly looks away. When Malfoy chuckles softly in response, Harry doesn't mean to smile.

With a flash of understanding, Harry realises rescuing Malfoy is going to have unexpected results.

"Come on, let's get you somewhere where we can deal with your injuries."

Malfoy's eyes light with relief and thankfulness and Harry is surprised by how much he wants to see what other emotions he can call up in those eyes.

"Lead on, my Captain." Malfoy's voice is tinged with amusement that causes Harry to look up sharply, but he finds only gentle teasing in the blond's expression.

The grin spoils Harry's attempt at a stern expression and mock command.

As he and Malfoy prepare to Apparate to the Burrow, Harry decides he's going to quite like the unexpected.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _it was a summer rain_

They Apparate to the Burrow and Draco wonders how he manages to avoid splinching himself, which is exactly what the plump, mothering red head starts berating Potter about the moment she gets a good look at Draco.

"Harry Potter! What were you thinking?"

Potter flushes and starts to stammer an answer that the woman, Mrs. Weasley, Draco assumes, ignores as she continues her tirade.

"Look at him, poor boy, he's injured and his magic is severely drained. We are lucky he didn't splinch himself!" She turns her rather overwhelming attention to Draco. "You didn't, Dear, did you? You've got all your bits with you?"

Malfoy training causes Draco to answer. "Yes Ma'am. As far as I can tell, I'm all here."

"Sit, sit, sit, you shouldn't be standing." She bustles him across the room to a large, over-stuffed chair that would never be seen at Malfoy Manor, but looks amazingly inviting. Glaring at Potter on the way, she adds, "And you certainly shouldn't be Apparating."

Draco is torn between his inbred desire to deny any weakness and his gratitude that someone actually wants to take care of him. Giving in to his exhaustion, he allows the Matriarch of the Weasley Clan to examine him and perform some healing spells, which she does with the practiced efficiency of a woman who's raised a brood of children.

Surprised to find Potter hovering closely as Mrs. Weasley works, Draco is even more stymied to discover that he likes Potter's seeming need to protect him. That, unexpectedly, he wants Potter to stay near.

Mrs. Weasley makes an approving sound. "There, now you rest, Dear, while I get us all a spot of tea." Her smile reminds him of Madam Pomfrey, though he'd never admit that he finds it comforting. "Harry dear, come help me carry the trays, will you?"

She heads to the kitchen, but Potter hesitates as if he's loathe to leave Draco. Whether it is because he's nervous about what Draco will do, or because he is afraid of what might befall the Slytherin is unclear, and Draco wonders if Potter, himself, knows which it is.

Aware that he shouldn't let Potter see how pleased he is at the Gryffindor's attention, Draco does his best to school his features. He is certain he's failed miserably when Potter ducks his head and turns quickly away, but not before Draco notes his reddened cheeks and shy smile.

Left alone, Draco closes his eyes, smirking at the irony of Lucius Malfoy's son being helped by a Weasley and the Boy Who Lived.

The patter of drops on the roof soothes his cluttered mind. It is a summer rain and Draco feels it wash through him, dissolving the desolate (if somewhat short) future that lay before him this morning. Though he doesn't know what lies ahead, he's pretty sure it won't involve immanent death. As he drifts asleep, he thinks that perhaps being on the same side as Potter might not be so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _i want it all, and i want it now_

Harry stands in the Burrow’s kitchen clutching distractedly at the tray Mrs. Weasley sent him to fetch. He’s trying to understand why he was so reluctant to follow Mrs. Weasley earlier. Why he’s practically twitching with the need to return to the living room. He tries to convince himself it’s because he doesn’t trust Malfoy and is wary about leaving him unguarded, but instead finds himself worrying that they’ve been followed somehow and he’s bleakly aware that Malfoy is too injured to defend himself properly.

Harry’s having a hard time reconciling his previous image of the Prince of Slytherin with the quiet, seemingly docile man in the other room. Malfoy has always been his enemy, the stuck-up pureblood with the attitude of _I want it all and I want it now_. Harry has little desire to know what series of atrocities have so altered Malfoy's demeanor, made him gratefully accept aid from those he used to sneer at.

Mrs. Weasley takes the tray from Harry’s loose grip, pulling him from his musings.

“Thank you, Dear.” She hesitates for a moment before adding, “We really need Madam Pomfrey to see him. I’ve fixed the physical damage the best I can, he’ll be sore, but he’ll most likely heal fine. His magic, though -“ She pauses again, her brow creased with worry and uncertainty. “I don’t know what they did to that poor Malfoy child, but his magic… his magic isn’t right.”

Harry has first hand knowledge of Madam Pomfrey’s healing abilities and he has no reason to doubt her talent, but for something like this, well… he never thought he’d want to see Snape again, but right now, at this moment, Harry wishes for the Potions Master’s knowledge and skill, before wondering bitterly if it’s Snape’s skill that is the cause of Malfoy’s current predicament.

He pushes the frustrating tangle of thoughts aside and smiles reassuringly at the worried mother beside him. “I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will be glad to come out and fix him up. Between the two of you Malfoy will be better than ever in no time.”

Mrs. Weasley brightens a bit, saying briskly, “Well, the best we can do right now is get him some tea and make sure he rests. Bring that, will you, Harry dear?”

Lost in thought, Harry trails after Mrs. Weasley with the tea things. Malfoy’s fallen asleep in the chair, and when Harry realises this, he stops and stares. He’s never seen Malfoy so quiet and peaceful. Harry’s gaze traces over the still form, noticing everything from the fall of the white-blond fringe across Malfoy’s face to the way he favours his injuries. Harry can’t believe how vulnerable the Slytherin looks, and an unexpectedly strong urge to protect him surges to the forefront.

Mrs. Weasley’s gently shaking Malfoy and he stirs and wakes.

“Don’t sleep yet, Dear. You need to eat a wee bit, keep up your strength. We’ll show you to a guest room in a bit and then you can have a lie down.”

Malfoy politely requests milk and two sugars when asked and turns a sleepy smile to Harry as he hands him his cup. Harry nearly spills its contents in Malfoy’s lap, as a result. _Well, Malfoy always accuses me of being a klutz_ , Harry thinks wryly.

After tea, Harry shows Malfoy to the twin’s old room while Mrs. Weasley goes to firecall Madam Pomfrey. When he follows his charge into the room, Harry’s met with a raised eyebrow.

“Afraid to leave me alone, Potter?”

Harry just shrugs noncommittally, but when Malfoy’s eyes darken with something that looks like suspiciously like hurt and resignation, Harry hastens to explain. “No, not like that. Mrs. Weasley says your magic is off, and I can’t be sure they won’t come after you, and it wouldn’t be right to leave you alone, and –“ Harry stops at Malfoy’s skeptical gaze and runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Look, I’ll just rest on Fred’s bed while you sleep in George’s, okay?”

Obviously exhausted, Malfoy sinks onto the bed with a curt nod. Harry waits until Malfoy’s breath is steady and even before he carefully covers him with a blanket from Fred’s bed.

It is nearly another hour before Harry gives into his own fatigue and lets his eyelids droop closed. During that time, Harry becomes vividly aware that he could get quite used to watching Malfoy sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _we're all going to die_

The pain is unbearable and, as Draco writhes on the floor surrounded by the screams and convulsing bodies of the other Death Eaters that have returned from the Hogwarts mission, he wonders with clinical detachment just how long a body can withstand _Crucio_. He hears the sickening snap of bones breaking just before Snape grunts with pain. _We’re all going to die_ , he thinks dispassionately.

They don’t, and later he wishes they had. At first, when he is tortured for hours on end and then when he is forced to watch his former Head of House be gradually killed over days and weeks.

Once, Draco manages to sneak into Snape’s chamber, a strengthening potion clasped tightly in his fist. The guilt of knowing his one-time mentor suffers because of him bears down on Draco, making it hard to breathe.

Snape starts at Draco’s touch, hissing in pain. “Idiot boy! Do you want this all to come to naught?”

“But you’ll die,” Draco blurts out, ashamed at the desperation and misery in his voice.

“As will you if they catch you here.”

“But it should be me. It was my failure, not yours.”

Snape laughs at this, his raspy cackles changing rapidly into coughs that wrack his thin frame and spatter small droplets of blood on his bedding.

Draco remembers the draught and presses the small phial into the Potions Master’s hand. “Here, this might help some.”

There is surprise and perhaps a little respect in Snape’s eyes when he realises what Draco has done. He downs the potion and lays back. “Now go. There are better things worth dying for.”

Draco wants to ask _what?_ , but instead he nods and slips away.

The next day the Dark Lord informs Draco that, since he seems to want to be with Snape, that is where he shall stay. The student and professor are tortured together.

Draco hears the familiar screaming as he wakes, thrashing against the hand pining him down.

“Malfoy!”

Draco gasps for breath in the sudden silence, tries surreptitiously reaching for his wand and curses as a second hand clamps down on his wrist before he manages to grasp it.

“Malfoy, it’s me!”

The voice is familiar and strangely comforting causing Draco to still and looks towards his captor. A concerned green gaze meets his. The question flits through Draco’s panicked and confused mind as to when exactly Potter’s eyes stopped being annoying and stupid and became attractively intense.

Potter’s speaking again, his voice soothing, “You’re at the Burrow. You’re safe. It was just a dream.” He frowns. “Unless they put some kind of spell on you. Voldemort –“ Draco flinches visibly at the name and Potter’s eyes widen with mild surprise, but he continues on as if he didn’t notice. “- has a penchant for mind games. I hope he hasn’t…” Potter trails off, rubbing distractedly at his scar and Draco has a sudden need to reassure him despite his own disconcerted state.

“It was only a memory.” He’d meant to say _dream_ , hadn’t meant to let Potter know how shaken he is by the recurring images of what has happened to him. Draco wonders if Snape is dead now that he is here and is mortified when his breath hitches and a sob escapes. Turning away from Potter, Draco faces the wall and curls in on himself, trying to ignore the way his shoulders betray him as they shake with silent tears. He is surprised and unexpectedly grateful when a hand begins to tentatively card through his hair.

“What did those bastards do to you?” Potter murmurs.

He doesn’t seem to expect an answer and a comforting silence settles around Draco as Potter continues to stroke his hair and back. His mind wanders to the last thing Snape said to him not long before Potter appeared. “Do not be so anxious to bury me, Mr. Malfoy. I am not so readily killed. I suspect we shall see each other again in this war.”

It hadn’t made a whole lot of sense to him at the time, but now Draco is sure that Snape has something to do with him being here at the Burrow. He hopes the professor is also somewhere safe.

Safe. For now, at least, Draco is safe.

Allowing himself to relax just a little, Draco leans back into Potter’s warmth and gentle caresses.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _my ego thanks you_

Harry is becoming quite used to watching Draco as he sleeps.

Somewhere in the last week Harry’s stopped thinking of Draco Malfoy as Malfoy and instead he’s become Draco. Occasionally Harry wonders if he should be concerned about this turn of events, but considering the routine they’ve been in, it’s hardly surprising.

Every day Madam Pomfrey comes to the Burrow to treat Draco. The Order has decided it is safer to leave the blond here, with Harry guarding him, rather than move him to Hogwarts or St. Mungo’s, despite the Medi-Witch’s daily trips. Everyone knows there are enough injured Weasleys to avoid arousing any suspicions. Even Narcissa would never believe that Draco would stay at the Weasley’s home willingly. But Draco is more than willing; he’s courteous and gracious. Harry’s ceased to be amazed when he finds Draco quietly chatting with Mrs. Weasley and helping her the best he can. Draco’s magic is starting to come right, Madam Pomfrey says, and they shouldn’t worry that he is sleeping so much. The problem is that with sleep comes the nightmares.

Harry and Draco never talk about it, but Harry understands what it’s like to be afraid to close one’s eyes. So he tries to always be there when Draco can’t stay awake any longer, a reassuring presence against the darkness.

Draco’s screams jolt Harry awake. He fumbles out of sleep and staggers over to Draco’s bed. Harry’s groggy and doesn’t remember to watch out for Draco’s fists. Which is why, moments later, he’s wide awake and rubbing his jaw.

“Bloody hell, Draco, wake up!”

At the sound of his given name Draco abruptly stops struggling and Harry realises it’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

Draco’s eyes focus on the bruise blooming on Harry’s cheek and he winces. “Sorry.” His voice is sharp and brittle. “But you’re obviously becoming lax or I wouldn’t have been able to hit you.”

“Ouch, my ego thanks you.” Harry’s frowning, even as he dryly responds. He knows Draco only snaps at him when he’s trying to keep from breaking down. “That bad, huh?”

The blond looks away as he nods curtly.

“Draco,” Harry says quietly, “budge over.” Draco does, and Harry scoots up onto the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. “Now, come here.”

Draco hesitates, than allows himself to be moved over so that he’s lying in the vee of Harry’s legs, his head resting against Harry’s chest.

Brushing the white-blond fringe out of Draco’s eyes, Harry asks, “Wanna talk about it?”

Draco shudders as he buries his face in Harry’s shirt, and Harry’s arms automatically circle the blond in a loose hug. “Shhh, you don’t have to, it’s alright, I’ll tell you a story instead.”

Harry knows he’s babbling, doesn’t understand why, but finds himself telling Draco about the time he’d gone to the zoo and talked to a snake and than about blowing up Aunt Marge. The whole time he is talking, Harry’s rubbing gentle circles on Draco’s back and is unexpectedly pleased when he feels Draco relax against him.

Before long Draco’s breath evens out and Harry’s once again watching the blond as he sleeps. This is the first time, however, that Draco has had Harry’s hand clasped tightly in his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _cocoa butter body lotion_

Draco is becoming used to the fact that he's feeling gratitude and admiration for people that he used to loathe. He still doesn’t understand why witches such as Molly Weasley and Poppy Pomfrey behave as they do, but he's acutely aware that he’d be in heinous shape if they didn’t.

Not to mention Potter. If it weren’t for Potter, he knows he’d be dead.

Draco's continually baffled by the Golden Boy’s unfailing Gryffindor loyalty and protection of him, his once archenemy. Even more consternating are his own changing feelings towards Potter.

Draco refuses to call him Harry, even in his thoughts, despite the fact that Potter has started calling _him_ by his given name. If Draco were to let down that barrier, he fears he will discover that his growing need of Potter’s presence is more than merely a want for protection from the nightmares and those that want him gone. Fears that he will be forced to admit why Potter can chase the foul images away with just a touch.

He has yet to acknowledge, even to himself, how much he treasures the rare moments when the dark haired wizard holds him, how blessedly peaceful it is to fall asleep to his gentle caresses.

“You’re extremely resilient,” Poppy Pomfrey is saying. “I really wasn’t sure you’d be able to recover from this.”

There's no malice in Draco’s smirk. “I’m a Malfoy.”

“That you are!” Poppy laughs. “And a tenacious one, at that. It will take a while longer, but I think your magic will heal completely. You’ll still need some daily treatment, however, I won’t need to see you as often.” She begins sorting through some bottles in her case. “I’ll leave a few potions with Molly, she is quite familiar with them. And this -” which turns out to be a large jar filled with thick cream-coloured potion “- needs to be applied every day. I cannot emphasize _enough_ how important it is that every inch of your skin is covered, Mr. Malfoy, that means getting assistance with your back. Perhaps Mr. Potter will be able to see to that for you.” She stands, closing her case with a snap. As she turns to go, she issues one last command. “And don’t skimp. I’ll be bringing you more.”

Draco is unexpectedly nervous as he asks Potter for his help. He is naked except for a towel that is wrapped around his hips, having just painstakingly covered as much of his body as he could reach per Poppy’s instructions.

“Every inch of skin?” Potter asks casually when Draco finishes explaining.

Draco is horrified to find himself blushing as he shoves the jar into Potter’s hands and turns around. “I’ve already done the rest. I just need you to do my back.” He hears the jar being opened and tenses at the impending touch. Potter’s snort causes him to stiffen even further.

But Potter apparently isn’t paying any attention to him. “Cocoa Butter Body Lotion.”

“Excuse me?”

“My Aunt Petunia used to have this Muggle cream called ‘Cocoa Butter Body Lotion.’ It was supposed to make her look younger.” Potter snorts again. “She bought it by the truckloads. It smelled a bit like this. Anyway, you want to lay down while I do this, or sit?”

In response, Draco sits carefully on the edge of the bed, his back still turned to Potter. He feels the bed dip with the other man’s weight behind him and clutches reflexively at the towel that is shifting against his skin.

When he finally feels the touch of Potter’s hand on his bare shoulder, he is lost. Draco isn’t sure what he envisaged. Why he thought he could keep it clinical. But he knows he never could have imagined the concentrated, almost reverent way with which Potter applies the ointment. His barriers are broken down with each careful stroke and by the time Potter reaches his lower back, Draco is completely undone. When Potter’s fingers dip below the towel, it is all Draco can do to hold back the whimper of need that threatens to escape.

“There, I think I’ve covered your entire back.” Potter’s voice is low and uneven. “I’ll just let you get dressed.” He stands, placing the jar on the night table as he turns to leave.

“Thank you, Harry.”

The smile is sudden and brilliant. “Anytime, Draco.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _i think he'll appreciate that_

Molly Weasley’s dealt with a lot of things in her somewhat turbulent life.

Between You-Know-Who, Dumbledore and the twins, events have never quite gone as planned. Molly copes with what she must and does her utmost to keep her brood safe. Perhaps she doesn’t always manage to accomplish this with cool aplomb, but she does try to keep her head or at least a control on her hysteria and rage.

Which is how she finds herself becoming nursemaid and confidant to Draco Malfoy. She’s briefly surprised that her motherly instincts and affection can extend so readily to include him, but he is a good lad. She watches with growing approval and encouragement the attraction between Harry and him. An attraction that both boys have yet to realise is mutual.

When Draco yawns, Molly gently says, “You should get some rest, dear. You’ve helped enough.”

Draco responds with a snort. “Hardly, though hopefully someday I’ll be able to repay all the kindness you and the others have shown me.” He frowns. “Except Harry. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to adequately thank, Harry.” He meets Molly’s eyes, his gaze intense. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him. I’ve never told him that. I should, shouldn’t I?”

It’s the first time Molly has heard Draco call Harry by his given name. It’s a start. “I think he’ll appreciate that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the awdt prompt for this chapter was _"I have no idea"_

Harry doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. It’s been months since he rescued Draco. Months of protection and aid, all the while being careful to show no more than new-made friendship with the blond.

Within minutes Draco will need help with Pomfrey’s medication, and Harry is bracing himself. He is grateful it’s no longer a daily requirement, because it’s getting harder and harder for Harry to keep his hands from wandering as he spreads the ointment on Draco’s back. To stop himself from pressing up against the gorgeous expanse of skin.

Harry's so lost in his contemplations that he doesn’t notice Draco’s tentative approach and he starts when the blond speaks.

“Poppy says I don’t need to use any of those potions anymore.”

Harry’s not sure whether to be happy about this news or not. Sure, he’s been worrying, but he already finds himself wanting to touch Draco more frequently and wonders what he’ll do without the prescribed time when he’s allowed to caress at least a piece of the body he longs for. How many days - or, God forbid, hours – will pass before he does something wildly inappropriate?

Harry only realises Draco‘s still talking to him when he hears his name.

“- alright, Harry? Poppy said you wouldn’t mind, but I wanted to ask anyway.”

Draco looks shy and nervous and Harry immediately agrees. To what, he doesn’t know. “Of course I’ll help. Whatever you need, Draco.”

Relief washes across Draco’s face but the nervousness does not abate and Harry wonders just what he has acquiesced to.

“Would now be convenient?” At Harry’s cautious nod, Draco holds out a stoppered flask expectantly. Harry takes it and watches the oil coat the intricate cut glass with growing trepidation. Draco continues, “I thought that perhaps the bathtub might be the best –“ Harry has no ability to reply as his brain begins to short circuit with the thought of Draco, a healing potion and a tub. “– you know, since you need to apply it everywhere this time –“ The bottle nearly drops from Harry’s nerveless fingers. “– Poppy says this should be the final step in my healing. That this potion, when applied to the skin by another wizard, should stop the last of the magic leakage -“ Harry can’t do this, he can’t. “– you should probably wear something you don’t mind getting damaged. Oily potions like this usually stain –“

It is then that Harry realises that Draco is babbling. That there isn’t room for can’t. “I’ll just take my shirt off. These jeans don’t matter.” He hopes his smile is reassuring. “Why don’t you get ready? I’ll just go let Mrs. Weasley know we’ll be busy in the loo for a bit.” Cringing at the way that sounds, he lopes off to find their hostess.

Ten minutes later, he finds himself standing in the Weasley’s upstairs bathtub in nothing but his jeans behind a very naked Draco Malfoy. Draco is facing the wall and shivering slightly, his shoulders tensed.

With the flask clutched tightly in his fist, Harry curls his bare toes against the porcelain and tries to remain calm. “Er, did Poppy say anything more specific about how to do this?”

“No, just that it needs to be applied everywhere, and I can’t do it this time.” Draco ducks his head as he speaks despite the fact that they aren’t even facing one another.

Removing the stopper from the bottle, Harry pours a bit of the golden liquid onto his hand. It warms his palm where it sits. Taking a steadying breath, he reaches over to Draco’s shoulder and begins to work the oil into the skin.

By the time he gets to Draco’s pale buttocks – buttocks he has been studiously ignoring up to this point – his jeans have become unbearably tight, the denim chaffing painfully against his erection. Harry ignores the discomfort and continues to steadily apply the potion with careful caresses, kneeling down to have better access to the blond’s legs. He coats each foot, lifting them up one at a time as if the other wizard is a horse being shod, making sure there is liquid between each toe and across the sole.

Draco braces himself against the tiled wall, his breath shallow and uneven, as Harry works.

It is while he is finishing the second set of toes that Harry realises he was not quite as thorough with his ministrations earlier, and, after setting the foot down, he reaches up with oil slicked hands to separate those perfect pale cheeks and smear the potion between them.

When Harry spreads him, Draco hisses as tremors shudder through him. When fingers ghost down his crevasse and over his perineum, Draco lets out a desperate whimper. And when a gentle hand cups his scrotum, Draco’s knees buckle.

Harry manages to wrap his free arm around Draco’s waist as the blond crumples, the added weight pushing Harry back onto his hunches and causing Draco to land heavily on Harry’s thighs, a potion covered hand trapped between them.

“S-s-sorry, I’m sorry.” Draco immediately scrambles to get up, words of apology stuttering forth. “I thought I could… That I’d be able to… We should stop. I’ll get more potion from Poppy. Have her apply it. I never should have… I’m so sorry.”

Keeping a firm grip around Draco’s middle, Harry extricates his other hand. “Don’t be daft, Draco. We are practically done.” his voice is quiet, attempting to soothe. “It was wrong to expect you to be able to stand the whole time. Here, lean back. I’ll do your face and the front of your torso.”

When he shifts to reach for the potion, Harry’s arm brushes against Draco’s rigid cock.

With a groan, Draco begins struggling to stand again. “Harry, I can’t. Please.”

“Hush, yes you can. Come here.” Harry pulls Draco the rest of the way onto his lap, meshing their bodies together, his own hardness now apparent to the blond.

Draco gasps. “Harry, I… “ His voice is a mixture of surprise and want and confusion.

“Ssssh, just relax.” And finally, he is able to persuade Draco to lean against him, his head on Harry’s shoulder. Reining in his own need, Harry returns to his task of covering the pale skin.

When he gently swipes his thumb across the other man’s lips, Harry wants to follow with his tongue, but knows he must finish applying the potion first. He spends torturously long on Draco’s nipples, causing the blond to whimper and writhe against him, whispering his name over and over like a mantra, “OhHarryHarryHarry.”

As his hands sweep lower and lower towards the one patch of skin not coated, Harry’s heart is pounding, his desire raging through him.

And suddenly, Draco is turning in his arms, pulling at the waistband of Harry’s jeans. “Need you. Please Harry. Please.”

This time it’s Harry that moans. “Draco, can we? What did Pomfrey say? Anything about... well... this?” Harry is trying to maintain some control as Draco is ripping at the fastening, tugging down his zip.

“It’s okay. She said it was okay. Makes it work better actually.”

A part of Harry’s mind takes a moment to wonder if Poppy was counting on this, but before he has time to consider, Draco’s hand is wrapped around his cock and it is all he can do to keep from coming right then.

“Hang on.” Harry disentangles himself and struggles out of his remaining clothes, eventually sitting back down, his legs in front of him this time.

Draco has kept busy while Harry disrobed, two oiled fingers already preparing and stretching. He straddles Harry’s legs as a third finger begins pumping in and out. Harry thinks he has never seen anything as gorgeous as Draco, covered in healing potion, his body straining towards Harry, ready and wanting.

Harry slicks himself, but stops Draco before he can move closer. “Wait, I need to finish with the potion.”

As Draco braces himself on Harry’s shoulders, Harry carefully works the oil into Draco’s abdomen, hips and groin, before finally caressing his sack.

“Harry, _please_!” The blond trembles and shudders, his forehead resting against Harry’s.

Acquiescing, Harry helps guide him onto his lap, reveling in bliss-filled awe as Draco impales himself, and then captures Harry’s lips once he is fully seated. As their hips begin a rhythmic motion, Harry somehow manages to pour the last of the oil into his palm and rub it along Draco’s cock, covering the shaft before pulling back the foreskin and swiping across the head.

Almost as soon as the last patch of skin is coated, Harry can feel his completion nearing, and even in this euphoric state he can tell there’s more than passion creating the thickness in the air. Draco’s keening and pulsing in his hand as Harry’s climax rips through him, magic weaving between and surrounding them.

They clasp each other tightly for long moments, before pulling back to look in each other’s eyes.

“What happens now?” Harry asks as he brushes blond fringe off of Draco’s sweaty forehead.

Draco kisses him, lingering and sweet. “I have no idea.”

Unexpected, laughter bounces off the tiled walls.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to figure it out together then.”

~fin 


End file.
